


Of Gods and Weeds

by grimmlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grumpy Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Gods - Freeform, Protective Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, gods living as humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22881325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: Dean is an ancient god. But not the god of anything cool or exciting. No. He's the god of something stupid and mundane... Weeding. He hates it. He hates his compulsive need to pull every weed he sees in his or anyone else's garden. He especially hates his neighbor. Castiel is beautiful, human, and a damn hippy who can't be bothered to take care of his yard.Except, Dean kinda loves him too. And Cas is done taking no for an answer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 234





	Of Gods and Weeds

Dean peers through the slats in his blinds with narrowed eyes. His neighbor, Castiel fucking Novak, is setting up beehives at the edge of his yard. Beehives! As if the weeds weren’t bad enough.

Every day, every _single_ day, Dean has to walk by the unkempt gardens and fight the tingling itch in his fingers to do something about the mess.

He’s faced this torment for years. Every fiber of his eternal being demands that he bring order to the long-neglected flower beds and each day he refuses to give in to his nature.

He doesn’t need to draw attention to himself.

His fingertips spark as he glares until he’s pulling back with a hiss when Cas turns his too blue eyes toward Dean’s window as if he could feel himself being watched.

Maybe he can.

For as much of a damn hippy as he is, Cas is very observant.

Dean is sure that Cas knows he’s the one who occasionally destroys the dandelions that creep into the shared space of their mailboxes. He’s also sure that Cas has noticed the way Dean can’t step into his yard without removing every weed he comes across.

It’s compulsive. Dean can’t help himself.

He’s the god of weeding, no matter what a disappointment he is to his parents. He cannot be faulted for doing his job.

He glares at Castiel, wishing he could be so negligent.

But no, Dean’s yard and gardens are perfect. Meticulous. And he hates that he has to have them at all. He tried, years ago, to live in the city without a natural space to care for. He stubbornly clung to his concrete and brick even as his stomach churned and lungs began to hurt.

He refused to give in even when he started coughing up blood, when he started dying.

He would have let himself die if Sammy hadn’t come and ruined it.

His moose of a brother has too much heart for his own good, the cursed benefit of being the god of prey.

They both gave up their true names and fled their parent’s disappointment a millennium ago, but the bitter tang of rejection still lingers. How the Goddess of the hunt and the God of the harvest produced such pathetic children, Dean will never know.

At least Sammy has made peace with their irrelevance.

Dean forces himself to turn away from the window and settle at his desk. The downside of living among mortals is needing to keep up the pretense of work.

He glares at his window yet again, cursing his completely mortal and completely independently wealthy neighbor.

Dean should have gone that route when Sam dragged him away from the city and plunked him down in this modest little house at the edge of suburbia. He has plenty of wealth collected over the centuries but Sam convinced him to hide it for the sake of not drawing attention to himself if their cousins ever come sniffing around.

Dean sighs and buries his face in his hands.

His garden is calling and he just _knows_ there are weeds to deal with but he can’t bring himself to go outside and face his wild and untamed neighbor.

Worse than Castiel’s lack of care about the weeds are his bottomless blue eyes that make Dean’s heart want to do something foolish like fall in love.

He can’t. Not with a mortal.

He refuses to endure that loss again.

He pushes away from his desk and the plans he’s been developing for a new raised garden at the senior center down the street and hurriedly shrugs on an old flannel before shoving his feet into a pair of boots and storming out the front door.

He forces himself to take a deep breath as he passes the milkweed marring what was once a beautiful bed of irises lining his driveway in his neighbor’s yard.

If he waves his hand over the offending plants to make them wilt a little, well, no one else needs to know.

“Dean!” Cas’ husky voice calls from the back yard and Dean’s feet stop immediately.

Dammit, Cas. Why? Why did he did have to notice Dean trying to leave? He sucks in a deep breath before spinning on his heels with his best fake smile. “Mornin, Cas,” he says as his heart flips and sputters in his chest.

Cas’ old t-shirt is far too big and the collar nearly slips over his shoulder as he pulls the sweat-dampened fabric from his stomach to fan himself. He regards the wilting milkweed with a pinched little furrow between his brows before turning back to Dean.

“I’m getting bees,” Cas says with a wide grin.

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “I see that.” He nods to the backyard where the new hives are half set up.

“I’m having a little trouble getting the hives onto the blocks, I was hoping you might be able to give me a hand for a few minutes?” Cas asks, glancing toward the new hives with his bottom lip held tight between his teeth.

Dean swallows hard with a frown. Cas wants him to help? To trudge through his weed-infested lawn and endure the proximity of this beautiful man? He can’t. He refuses.

“Sure,” the word leaves his mouth before Dean and bite his tongue and Cas’ expression lights up brighter than the sun.

Dammit.

Cas waves him along and Dean trudges through the clover and creeping charlie, trying not to whine at the disorder of it all. Cas keeps up a constant chatter, the sound bright and happy enough to distract Dean from simply obliterating every single weed that winds up crushed beneath his boot.

“Well, this is it. I have the foundations set, but…” Cas trails off, tilting his head slightly as he looks past Dean at the path they took through the thing that Cas likes to call his yard. “Have you noticed any trouble with your plants lately?” Cas asks, tilting his head the other way as he stares.

Dean turns, noticing he hadn’t done as good a job reining in his powers as he thought he had. Everywhere Dean stepped shows signs of drooping. Every blade of crabgrass, every tiny purple flower that shouldn’t be there in the first place. “No, everything in my yards been fine,” Dean huffs. “What do you need me to do with all this.” He waves his hand at the new hives to try to distract Cas from the obvious.

Cas hums with a frown before shaking off whatever thought is bothering him and returning his attention to Dean. “I just need you to help me lift them. They’re not all that heavy, just a bit awkward.”

Dean nods and takes up position at the side of one of the three large boxes. Cas takes the other side and together, they settle it on the block. Cas was right, they aren’t all that heavy, especially not for him, but he can’t deny that he’s glad Cas asked for help.

These would be a bit too much for a single human to manage on their own.

Especially a guy like Cas.

Not that Cas is small or anything. He’s nearly as tall as Dean and well built, his shoulders are well defined, his arms thick and don’t even let him get started on Cas’ heavily muscled thighs. Dean feels his mouth water as he risks a look at Cas’ hips and legs. He can only imagine what it would be like to taste and touch. He’s beautiful, perfection in human form, and Dean absolutely cannot allow himself to go there.

He takes a deep breath to clear the direction of his thoughts as they lift the second and then the third hive into place.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he dusts his hands on his jeans. “Could I interest you in some lemonade? I squeezed it fresh this morning.” Cas arches a brow as he smiles softly at Dean like they’re friends or something.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course you did,” he says, not intending his tone to come across as so fondly amused. “I really can’t, I’ve got work to do. Maybe next time.”

Cas’ expression falls and Dean swears he can see disappointment flicker in his too blue gaze. “Next time, sure,” Cas forces a smile that neither of them believes.

It’s always next time.

Dean quickly flees Cas’ mess of a yard, clenching his fists as he goes to keep his compulsive need to destroy all weeds under control and soon enough, he’s sliding behind the wheel of his classic Impala.

Dean has seen a lot in his many years of existence, but the human invention of automobiles has to be his favorite innovation. When the 1967 Chevy Impala came out, Dean had swooned. Fifty-three years later and his baby is still his most precious possession. He lovingly strokes the dashboard as he turns the key, shivering with delight as the mighty engine roars to life. “What are we gonna do girl,” he says softly, lifting his gaze to notice the way Cas is staring after him as he backs out of the drive and onto the street. “What are we gonna do?”

His heart gives a funny little flip when Baby refuses to answer.

\---Part Two---

A week later, the bees arrive.

At seven in the morning.

On a Saturday.

Dean groans and rolls over his bed as the _beep beep beep_ of a large truck backing up penetrates the pillow he shoves over his head. The noise doesn’t stop.

In fact, it gets worse. In addition to the incessant beeping, voices are added to the mix.

“Dammit Cas,” Dean grumbles as he gives up and rolls out of bed. Now that he’s awake, memories of all the work he needs to do in his yard plant themselves at the forefront of his mind.

Knowing that Cas is outside makes his stomach squirm in ways that Dean would prefer to ignore. How is it that someone who refuses to take care of his gardens finds so much work to do outside?

The coffee maker gurgles as Dean grumbles and tugs on a tattered pair of jeans and an old tee. No sense in dressing up if he’s going to be on his hands and knees all morning. _Weeding. Not watching Cas_ , he feels the need to remind himself.

Just to prove his point to himself, he pours his coffee and settles on his overstuffed couch for some Saturday morning cartoons. On Netflix, of course. Kid’s shows nowadays are just weird.

He skips through the menu until he finds Scooby-Doo and settles back with a contented laugh.

By the time the movie is over, the truck with the bees is gone and Cas is out of sight.

Good.

Dean shoves his feet into his boots and laces them tightly before heading out to the garage for his tools. As much as he can do with his inherent powers from being who he is, there is still something to be said about getting his hands dirty and doing the work himself.

He gives Baby a loving pat as he passes her. “We’ll go out later, girl, I promise.” He should call Sam later too, see how the moose is doing in his little corner of the wilderness.

Unlike Dean, Sam embraced his god tendencies and positioned himself to help the prey animals he was born to advocate for. He hired into the Department of Natural Resources as a park ranger decades ago. Sure, he’s had to disappear for a while and come back with a new name a few times to keep people from growing too suspicious, but he’s happy there.

He has an excellent record for keeping poachers out of his parks since the animals are all too happy to tell him when something is amiss.

Honestly, he and Cas would probably get along great.

Hippies, the both of them.

The sun is high in the sky now and Cas is nowhere in sight. Dean sneaks a peek at the hives, noting they’re shut up tight for now, which is probably for the best. He doesn’t know much about bees, but he does know that Cas wants them to settle in his hives and not fly away to find a different home.

That’s the trouble with trying to keep wild animals. They’re always looking for something better.

Dean sighs as he surveys his yard. His hedges need trimming, the roses need pruning, and the grass needs clipping. He’s been meaning to turn that pile of rocks into a tiered garden where he can plant ivy to climb around the base of the pine tree in the back corner of his yard nearest Cas’ new hives.

He chews his lip as he considers his options. He had intended to tackle those rocks today but the arrival of the bees has him hesitating.

He hates his neighbor, but that doesn’t mean he has any ill feelings toward Cas’ new charges.

Perhaps the rocks can wait.

The bees are probably already agitated enough without having to listen to someone knocking around outside their prison.

Which means be probably shouldn’t mow either.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean curses under with breath as he frowns and turns to his roses.

Hours pass as Dean meticulously trims and clips, prunes and fertilizes. Pride swells in his chest when he finishes, staring down at his roses and the hedges around them. They’re perfect. Beautiful and healthy. But most importantly, free of weeds.

Dread swells in his stomach when his thoughts drift to the front yard. More importantly, the border between his yard and Castiel’s. He swears, if that damn milkweed is drifting into his space again he’s going to just smite the damn things and be done with them.

Thankfully for the weeds, and Dean’s temper, the milkweed has decided to stay on Castiel’s side of the border. Still, violets are encroaching around their mailboxes and that awful creeping Charlie reaching its greedy little tendrils into Dean’s space.

He spends the next hour on his knees, silently cursing each tiny purple flower into oblivion.

Even for a waste of space god like himself, the action of smiting is intensely satisfying.

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time,” Cas’ voice comes from above him and Dean immediately bolts upright with his heart hammering in his chest.

“Dammit, Cas. Gotta get you a bell or something.” Dean tries to play off his near panic attack as surprise but the cogs in his mind are whirling, desperately hoping that Cas didn’t notice that Dean wasn’t actually _pulling_ any of the weeds from the ground.

Cas stares, those bottomless blue eyes demanding as he holds out a glass of lemonade to Dean with an expression approaching a dare for Dean to refuse.

Dean swallows hard and takes the sweaty glass with a sheepish smile. “Thanks,” he mutters before taking a hesitant sip, still watching Cas carefully for signs of suspicion.

“You’ve been out here for hours,” Cas squints.

Dean nods. “Lots of work to do.” He struggles to meet Cas’ gaze, sure that all of his faults are on clear display. Yeah, he’s a little petty about the weeds. But petty is a defining characteristic of gods. It’s in his nature and Dean learned a long time ago to stop fighting his nature.

Cas nods even though his eye roll is nearly audible. “I made lunch.”

Dean swallows hard and takes another sip of lemonade. The cool liquid is a perfect balance of tart and sweet, obviously fresh. He’d be willing to bet his Baby that Cas squeezed the lemons this morning. “Okay…well, don’t let me keep you.” He downs the rest of the drink and makes to hand the glass back.

“You’re coming over,” Cas says and Dean nearly stumbles back.

“I am?” Dean asks, not able to help himself. His feet nearly start walking toward Cas’ back porch from the sheer level of command in Cas’ voice.

Cas nods curtly, eyes still narrowed with his lips pressed into a flat line. “You are.”

Dean’s heart flutters despite how he tries to squash the feeling and he finds himself nodding against his internal better judgment. “Okay.” The word feels like sand in his mouth. He shouldn’t. He should stay far away from his very human neighbor and keep to himself. Those piercing blue eyes can only mean trouble.

“Good.” Cas’ lips twitch up at the corners and his gaze immediately softens. Dean hadn’t noticed the tension in Cas’ shoulders until it disappears and Dean finds a small measure of comfort in Cas’ apparent nervousness.

He feels himself relaxing too and he stares down at the empty glass in his hand as he rubs the back of his neck nervously with his other hand.

“Come on,” Cas turns on his heel with a wave and starts the trek toward to back door, leaving Dean to follow through the ankle-deep mess of weeds that Dean tries very hard not to kill as he walks.

“Why don’t you ever mow?” Dean blurts out the question that has plagued him since Cas bought the house next door. “All these weeds, this is a mess.”

Cas spins on his heel with a harsh glare. “The only difference between a flower and a weed is judgment,” Cas says, his voice softer than the steely look in his eyes would suggest. “These _weeds_ serve a purpose, Dean. Simply because they aren’t _ornamental_ doesn’t negate their value.”

Dean’s hear rears back out of sheer surprise. The level of vehement determination in his normally soft-spoken neighbor’s tone catches him off guard and causes a low tingle in his belly that he tries to pretend is a flash of irritation. “And what value is that?” Dean isn’t curious. He resolutely refuses to be curious.

“The environment, Dean. The bees, other insects. The water table. Take your pick. These wild plants, these _weeds_ , are essential to a healthy eco-system.” Cas retorts, glaring all the while as he gestures to his yard with a sweep of his hand. “They deserve as much care as any other living thing.”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. Cas isn’t wrong and he knows it.

Cas plants his hands on his hips and stares, leaving Dean a choice.

He wants to run. This is why he does his best to avoid Cas. Those blue eyes, that stare, the firm jaw. He’s nearly ethereal, the way he stares and for a moment Dean begins to doubt his assessment of his neighbor.

No mere mortal should be able to level a god with such a stare.

Dean shakes off the prickling feeling and swallows hard before he nods. “I see,” he mutters. He does, he really does. That doesn’t mean he has to like Cas’ reasoning.

Cas huffs through his nose and Dean wants to shrink in on himself. The urge to flee has only grown stronger.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters, dropping his gaze to the wilting weeds at his feet.

Cas’ eyes track his movement and his frown deepens when he notices how brown the white flowers of the clover around Dean have dulled and browned. “Were you using herbicides?” Cas grates, eyes narrowed as he meets Dean’s startled gaze.

“What? No!” As if Dean would ever consider using _poison_ to tend to his plants.

Cas’ eyes narrow further and that beautiful blue nearly disappears and he lifts his chin proudly. “Then why are my plants dying under your feet?”

Dean sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “I dunno, man. You know I don’t use poisons.” At least Cas ought to know given how much he watches Dean.

Cas huffs and shakes his head as he purses his lips. “Lunch is getting cold.” He turns back to the house but the stiffness in his shoulders is back and Dean hunches in on himself, feeling like an ass for opening his mouth in the first place.

“Anything I can do to help?” Dean offers, not knowing whether he should apologize or simply disappear but it seems that Cas is done with letting him run.

Cas takes a deep breath as he opens the back door that leads directly into his kitchen. “Can you grab the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and take it to the table outside?”

Dean nods. “I can do that.” He carefully kicks the dirt off his boots before he steps over the threshold and he is entirely unsurprised to smell incense, patchouli, and marijuana the instant he’s inside and he fails miserably at suppressing his huff of amusement.

Damn hippy.

Cas busies himself at the oven while Dean collects the lemonade and holds the door open so Cas can carry the large tray out to the table.

“Nachos? Dude…” Dean says, mouth already starting to water.

Cas’ smile is soft and shy as he sets the tray down. “Take a seat, I’m going to grab plates.”

Dean does as he’s told, unwilling to draw Cas’ ire yet again. Instead, he mulls over what Cas said about the weeds.

They’re intentional. Which...are they even still weeds? Dean squints as he considers, his inherent need for order and direction makes his fingers itch with rejection of the idea that he can’t help but entertain.

The familiar swirl of self-hatred begins to churn in his gut and even the very temping plate of nachos in front of him isn’t enough to convince him that Cas shouldn’t hate his petty ass with every fiber of his gorgeous being.

And yet, here he is. Sitting at Cas’ table, sipping Cas’ lemonade, about to eat Cas’ food. All because Cas is done taking no for an answer.

“Oh, shit, lemme get that,” Dean says, hurrying to his feet to get the door so Cas doesn’t have to juggle yet another thing.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says with a tender smile that has Dean’s stomach fluttering.

He swallows hard, attention drawn to the flex of tanned muscle as Cas sets the plates on the table. “I, uh, thank you, Cas. This looks awesome.”

Cas gives him another one of those soft smiles that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and Dean thinks he might absolutely die before this meal is over.

He’s sweaty and disgusting, that’s what he reminds himself. He could magic himself clean, but not in front of Cas. Besides, he likes the feeling of hot water beating down on his back as his bathroom fills with steam.

“It’s no trouble, Dean, I’ve been wanting a chance to speak with you but you always seem to have somewhere else to be.” Cas’ eyes have no right to make Dean feel so guilty, and yet they do. Dean would melt into a little puddle of shame if not for the cold glass of lemonade in his hand.

He sucks in a breath and nods. “Uh, yeah. I’ve always got something going on.” No way is he going to admit that he’s terrified to be within fifty feet of Cas because he’s certain he’ll do something stupid like kiss the man.

Especially now that Castiel has utterly destroyed Dean’s excuse of hating him because of the weeds.

Shit.

Dean takes another sip of his lemonade to stop himself from saying something else stupid as Cas takes the spatula and fills his plate.

Dean follows suit and they eat in near silence, Dean only commenting on how amazing the chips are. Of course, Cas made them himself. Because why wouldn’t he?

It figures that not only is Cas the most beautiful man Dean has seen since freaking Adonis walked the earth, but he’s domestic as hell too. Alright, maybe that’s a poor choice of words. His great uncle wouldn’t appreciate his realm being called domestic. Although, Persephone might not mind.

He shrugs, deciding that under no circumstances will he ask her.

He does not need to reopen _that_ can of worms.

“So, Dean, I’ve been wanting to ask you for some time now...” Cas sits back in his chair and pushes his plate away while Dean’s stomach swoops at the hesitation laced within Cas’ tone.

He swallows hard, eyeing Cas warily. “Yeah?”

Cas licks his lips, gaze dropping to Dean’s before lifting again. Dean’s heart patters and he narrowly resists shaking his head in panic.

“I never see anyone coming or going from your house,” Cas makes the simple statement but his eyes ask a hundred questions as Dean’s breath catches in his throat, waiting with every fiber of his immortal being for Cas finish his question.

Cas’ pink tongue darts out to moisten his lips and Dean nearly whimpers when he fails to tear his gaze away from the sight.

“My brother comes to visit,” Dean defends weakly and Cas hums as he leans into Dean’s space, his lips only inches from Dean’s.

“Ah, yes. Sam, right?” Cas questions softly, his warm breath ghosting over Dean’s lips as he sits stunned in place by Cas’ sudden proximity.

He sucks in a careful breath through his nose and the combined scent of orange and cinnamon tickles his nostrils and makes him feel like headed as he waits for Cas to do _something, anything_.

Dean’s breath hitches and he fights to keep his eyes open. This is it. This is how he dies. His supposedly endless life cut short by the sudden release of the palpable tension that’s been strung between them for so long. “Cas,” Dean whispers, nearly a whine.

Cas hums, his breath tickling Dean’s lips. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean shivers as Cas’ husky tone washes over him and he swallows hard against the riot in his stomach. “What are you doing?” He forces himself to ask, not entirely certain he wants to know the answer.

Cas chuckles and Dean swears that electricity skitters up his spine at the rough sound. “Do you want me?”

Dean’s heart seizes, stumbling and tripping in an attempt to restart as his stomach quivers. A faint whimper escapes his throat when he refuses to answer and clenches his eyes against the need to say yes. He can’t. There are so many reasons that he shouldn’t. He can’t risk his heart to someone who he’ll have to watch lose their spark of youth to the passage of time while he remains unchanged, ageless while everyone he cares for grows old and dies.

Cas sighs and Dean can feel him shake his head but he refuses to open his eyes to look. Cas drops his forehead against Dean’s. “I thought I was reading something here,” he whispers and Dean cries a little inside at the sadness laced in Cas’ tone.

“I can’t, Cas,” Dean mutters, afraid to break the spell between them and discover what comes next.

Cas hums, still not moving and it takes everything Dean has not to reach out and touch.

Castiel’s long fingers find their way to toy with the short hairs at the base of Dean’s skull, the tickling touch making Dean’s heart ache.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Dean whispers as he forces himself to open his eyes and meet Cas’ cerulean gaze. From this close, that perfect blue is all Dean can see and the sight is unnerving. Not for the first time, Dean swears there is something more to his neighbor than his appearances hint at but he can’t quite assign a name to the sensation.

He forces himself to pull back. “Thanks for lunch,” he mutters, needing to flee before he gives in to the urge to discover if Cas’ perpetually chapped lips taste like the honey he’s so fond of.

Cas pulls back as Dean pushes to his feet and flees, leaving a trail of wilted weeds as he hurries from Cas’ backyard and into the safety of his house.

“What the hell was that?” he mutters to himself as he leans against the cool wood of his front door. His heart still pounds in his chest, the anticipation of what Cas was hinting at has yet to fade and Dean could weep out of frustration.

He wants Cas, so much.

And he isn’t fooling either of them by saying no.

\---Part Three---

For the next two weeks, Dean avoids his neighbor as much as humanly (ha!) possible. On the days he doesn’t lock himself in his house, he climbs into his Baby as the first rays of dawn begin to creep across the sky and waits to return until the inky blackness of night begins to take hold.

For the first time in years, he uses magic to maintain his gardens, not daring the chance of Cas confronting him by being outside.

His vegetables ripen on the vine and threaten to rot where they lay because Dean is too chicken-shit to risk facing Cas and every day, Dean hates himself a little bit more for his cowardice.

After two full weeks of hiding, Dean ventures outside under the cover of moonlight to collect his languishing tomatoes and zucchini that has grown far beyond the point of usefulness. He quickly dumps some of them in the compost pile at his back yard before returning to collect what is still usable.

He’ll take them to the food bank tomorrow.

On his way back into his garage, he’s stopped in his tracks by a small cluster of weeds just to the left of the door. He swears they weren’t there when he went outside and he sets down his bundle of vegetables to crouch down and examine the delicate petals of blue bellflowers and robust purple thistle, interspersed with dainty yellow buttercups.

These don’t belong here and he glances around with narrowed eyes as if the culprit will suddenly appear.

He holds his hand over them, ready to smite, but then he remembers what Castiel had said before. _The only difference between a flower and a weed is judgment._

He closes his fist and lets out a heavy breath through his nose before closing his eyes and leaving the wildflowers in place as he stands and collects his basket of vegetables.

Leaving the interloping plants alive grates on his nerves but something about it feels right and for the first time in two weeks, he falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

If his dreams are filled with visions of crystalline blue eyes then it’s no one’s business but his own.

\---

Another week passes without contact with Castiel and Dean is finally starting to relax. Hopefully, Cas has forgiven him for his rejection and will leave him alone now that he knows Dean isn’t interested.

He settles at his drafting table with his coffee, blueprints for a new garden design spread in front of him. The township created an ordinance a few years back declaring that every new commercial construction is required to have so much green space around their parking lots, and he does frequent contracts with local landscapers to design these spaces.

This blueprint is due in a few days, but he’s nearly finished. His biggest trouble is the client wants to incorporate as many native wildflowers into the design as they can to keep maintenance to a minimum.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but his thoughts keep drifting the cluster of wildflowers outside his door that he can’t bring himself to smite. In the last week, they’ve grown taller, brighter, and yet they seem to understand that they’re not welcome to spread.

He drums his pencil on the edge of the table as he chews his lip and scans his work, shaking his head to dislodge the distraction.

He startles when the cutting sound of someone pounding on his front door fills the room, jarring him from his thoughts. “Dean!” A familiar voice calls through his front door, carrying a sense of urgency followed by several hard thumps against the wood. “Open up!”

Dean stares from his drafting table, eyes wide before he glances down at his work and decides that he might as well see what the ruckus is.

Cas has never come to his door and he hasn’t tried to reach out to Dean since their ill-fated lunch.

“Dean! Please, I need your help!” Cas calls again, followed by more pounding and Dean’s heart constricts.

Dean shuffles toward the door warily, already dreading what might be waiting for him on the other side.

The pounding stops the instant his hands touch the door, the locks clicking as he hurries to undo them. “Cas?” He says, blinking in the sunlight as he takes in his neighbor’s disheveled appearance.

His already wild hair is impossibly tangled, as if he’s been running his hands through it and tugging, and his eyes are wide with worry. Cas sucks in a ragged breath and pushes past Dean and into his house.

“Please, come in,” Dean gestures with a roll of his eyes after Cas is already inside and he shuts the door a little too noisily. “What do you want?” He folds his arms over his chest and frowns at Cas paces in his entryway.

“My bees, Dean, somethings wrong. There was a bullet hole! A bullet hole!” He rambles, tugging at his hair. “And a coyote,” he shakes his head. “Dean, there was a coyote!”

Dean’s brows furrow and his heart skips at the mention of a bullet hole but Cas’ ramblings make no sense. “Hey, hey,” Dean says, snagging Cas’ wrists and hauling him around to face him. “Slow down. What about a bullet hole?”

Cas sucks in a deep breath and Dean can see the tears glistening in his eyes. “Someone shot my hives.”

The panic in Cas’ tone is clear and Dean already knows he’ll do anything he can to help. “When? I didn’t hear anything.” He shakes his head, searching his memories for anything out of place.

“Last night. I didn’t hear anything either, but the bees are so angry, Dean. And then the coyote,” he trails off, shaking his head.

“What about the coyote?” There aren’t normally coyotes this close to their little neighborhood. He hears them in the distance, sure, but never this close. “Did it try to attack you?”

Cas shakes his head and pulls away, scrubbing his hands over his face before turning back to Dean. “She came to warn me.”

“Warn you?” What kind of crazy talk is this? Dean shakes his head. “You’re not making any sense.”

Cas shakes his head and turns away, shoulders set in a firm line. “Something is _wrong_ , Dean.”

“Alright, I get that.” Dean drops his head back and stares at the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the fact that his neighbor has clearly lost his mind. He doesn’t have the heart to kick him out. “But what do you want me to do?” He meets Cas’ gaze and shakes his head with, eyes wide and pleading.

Cas huffs and strides forward, snagging Dean’s hand on the way past and dragging him through the door and onto the porch. “I need you to see.”

“Cas!” Dean pulls his hand back and Cas turns to him with a glare. “Fine, fine,” he says, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “At least let me get some shoes.”

Cas narrows his eyes but nods as Dean hurries back inside to shove his socked feet into the boots he keeps next to the door. By the time he steps back outside, Cas has resumed his pacing and stops only to grab Dean’s hand again.

Dean pretends not to notice the zing that passes through him with the feeling of Cas’ calloused hand wrapped around his, the point of contact between them burning hot enough to make Dean’s heart patter excitedly.

He allows himself to be pulled, too stunned to spend energy maligning the weeds that make up Cas’ yard. Cas drags him through the ankle-deep clover and crabgrass and Dean barely grimaces when the harsh blades of grass tug at the cuffs of his jeans.

Cas leads the charge, directly to the hives, and only releases Dean’s hand when he bends down to point at the damage. “Someone shot my bees!”

Dean’s eyes narrow at the sight. The holes are small, perfectly round, but something about them makes his skin prickle. He leans over, crowding into Cas’ space to run his finger along the edge of one of the holes. A faint shiver runs through him and he swallows hard as nightmare images of Cas being hurt flood his thoughts. “Tell me about the coyote.”

Cas folds his arms over his chest and grips his biceps, making himself look smaller than usual and more uncertain than Dean has ever seen him. “She was sitting on my back porch. Her paw was bloody, I think whoever shot my hives hurt her too.”

“Cas, I’m going to need to you stay inside.” Dean’s mouth presses into a flat line as he turns to Cas. A chill sweeps up his spine and he swallows hard and he struggles not to turn toward the haunting feeling.

“What?” Cas exclaims in protest. “Why?”

He shakes his head, a cavern opening low in his gut as he turns to stare out at the open field that backs both of their yards. “I need to call my brother,” he says as a sickening sense of _wrong_ makes his stomach churn. “He works for the department of natural resources, he’ll be able to help.”

It’s likely just some idiot with a gun, a poacher at worst if they’re shooting at coyotes, but he isn’t going to wait around for someone to get hurt, especially if that someone might be Cas.

He’ll trust Sam before the local police any day.

\---Part Four---

“Cas, come on,” Dean pleads when Cas knocks on his door at dawn for the second day in a row.

“They’re terrified, Dean. There was a fox on my stoop this morning,” Cas says as he shakes his head and brushes past Dean, making his way to the kitchen like he’s been coming over for years instead of three days.

“A fox.” Dean stares after his neighbor as he helps himself to a cup of coffee, complete with too much cream and nearly his weight in sugar. Still, Cas grimaces when he takes a sip. “Why do you even try to drink my coffee if you don’t like it?”

Cas shakes his head and takes another gulp. “That isn’t the point, Dean.”

“Then what is?” Cas is grumpy in the mornings, something Dean isn’t sure how he never noticed before but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find him adorable. Dean steps into the kitchen and leans his hip against his counter and Cas cringes his way through the coffee tinted cup of cream and sugar in his hands.

“The animals are scared.” Cas reiterates.

Dean shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to pretend to know why animals are showing up at your doorstep, but Sam works for the park services, he should be here tomorrow.”

Cas swallows hard and stares out the window in silence as Dean steps into his space. Castiel’s pull is magnetic and Dean’s resistance has worn thin over the last two days.

Cas has spent more time in Dean’s kitchen than at his own house and Dean finds his home feeling warmer, more comforting, with the other man’s presence.

Dean sighs and reaches to stroke his fingers over Cas’ shoulder. “Cas, hey,” he whispers, wrapping thumb and forefinger around Cas’ wrist. The simple point of contact is grounding for both of them and Dean licks his lips, wanting more.

“I’m worried, Dean,” Cas says, still staring out the window toward his house. 

Dean follows his gaze, frowning with he notices the sorry state of Castiel’s beloved weeds. Everything is wilting and spotted with brown.

Nothing like the healthy mess that the plants usually are.

“What’s happening to your yard?” Dean whispers, concern bleeding into his voice as he tugs Cas closer.

Cas turns to him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and burying his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. “ _I’m worried_.”

Dean freezes, stunned by the sudden hug, and he swallows hard as he wraps his arms around Cas’ back and holds him gently. The weight Castiel gave his words isn’t lost on him and he feels like he’s missing something vital, something just out of his reach.

After a moment, Cas pulls back and rubs his eyes, giving Dean a watery smile. “Sorry.”

Dean shrugs, doing his best to pretend that he doesn’t want to drag Cas close once again.

“I should go,” Cas stares out the window with a pinched frown.

Dean shakes his head and swallows hard. “You should stay,” Dean whispers, drawing Cas’ gaze to him like a moth to a flame. Dean flinches a smile as he reaches out a hand to cup the side of Cas’ throat and stroke his thumb over the sharp cut of his cheek. “I’d like you to stay.”

“Dean?” Cas whispers as he leans into the touch.

They drift closer until barely an inch remains and Dean can feel Cas’ warmth tempting him closer. “Cas,” he breathes, wanting little more than to close the distance between them.

“Dean,” Cas’ question turns into a needy whine that has Dean surging forward, finally getting a taste of those lips that have been starring in his every fantasy since their lunch weeks ago.

Cas melts against him, humming into the kiss as his stubble drags against Dean’s smooth skin, creating enough friction to remind Dean that Cas is his opposite in nearly every way. Wild and untamed, unable to be touched by Dean’s need to control.

Dean’s head swims as he breathes him in, the scent of cinnamon and orange making every cell in his body chant a loop of _Cas, Cas, Cas_ as he tastes his fill. The faint taste of sugar and coffee coats his lips and Dean chases after it, licking into Cas’ mouth with reckless abandon.

He can’t fathom why he resisted this for so long. Cas is perfect, his broad back is sculpted with muscle, strong and young. Powerful. Dean could lose himself, become drunk under the touch of Cas’ hands and barely notice the passage of time.

Luckily, Cas has the good sense to pull back and press Dean away with a firm hand at the center of his chest. “Dean,” he gasps, blue eyes searching.

Dean swallows hard, letting Cas keep some distance. “Please stay.”

Cas chews his lip before giving a shaky nod. “Okay.”

“Whatever is going on, we’ll figure it out, okay?” Dean laces their fingers together and tugs Cas toward the couch.

Cas follows him down, folding his legs underneath him to face Dean without dislodging their clasped hands. “What changed?”

Dean flinches at the vulnerability in Cas’ tone and the wariness in his eyes. “I, I’m not good at relationships, I didn’t want… I don’t want to hurt you.” He shakes his head, torn between wanting to kiss Cas again and send him away.

Cas pinches the corners of his mouth to hold back a laugh that ends up breaking free anyway. “You don’t want to hurt me?” The bright sound of his laughter fills the room and Dean’s hackles rise despite how he would prefer to revel in the sound.

“Is that so wrong?” Dean bites. He can’t fathom why Cas thinks that Dean caring is so amusing, but he does not appreciate the ridicule.

Cas chuckles and shakes his head as he reaches out to cup Dean’s cheek. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dean Winchester, god of weeding.”

Dean rears his head back and shakes his head. Surely, Cas must be joking. Poking fun at his obsessive need to keep his yard free from all weeds. “What’s that supposed to mean?” There is no way that Cas can know.

Cas rolls his eyes and tugs Dean’s hand closer as he rotates their wrists so that Dean’s palm faces the ceiling. Cas takes his other hand and holds his palm a few inches over Dean’s as his bright eyes slide closed.

Dean feels the crackle of electricity before he sees it, feels the tender kiss of roots tickling his palm before he dares to look. “Cas,” Dean breathes, finally daring to open his eyes to see the small cluster of daisy-like flowers that have appeared from nothing in his hand.

No human can do something like this.

Dean stares, wide-eyed as his fingers close around the delicate blooms. “Chamomile?” He questions, heart racing as he swallows hard and meets Cas’ gaze.

Cas flinches a smile before chewing his lip. His blue eyes are full of hesitation. “For the patience it took not to tell you.”

“Tell me what, Cas?” Dean asks although he’s fairly certain he knows the answer already. Part of it, at least. His heart flutters in anticipation as he examines the weed in his hand. The wildflower that Cas created.

“I’m a god of weeds,” Cas whispers softly.

Dean thought he would be angry that someone found out his secret, that another god has been this close for years and he never knew. He thought he would scream and rage if his secret were found out. But, as he stares at Cas now, all he can think about it tasting those perpetually chapped lips against his own, about feeling Cas underneath him, above him. Everywhere.

“We’re both nature gods,” Cas continues, already backing away as if expecting Dean’s anger.

Dean snags his wrist and draws him closer as he sets the nearly crushed chamomile on his coffee table. Cas tenses but goes as Dean brings their foreheads together. “We’re both useless gods,” Dean laughs.

Cas pulls back with a furrowed brow. “I wouldn’t call us useless.”

Dean laughs, the sound breathy and light in his disbelief. “You wouldn’t?”

“No, Dean. We may not be widely renowned, but we are important here, to the plants we care for.” Cas smirks and presses a quick peck of a kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Dean chuckles as he shakes his head in disbelief. “This is unbelievable.”

Cas nods he trails off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know who you were until a few weeks ago when I saw you smite the creeping charlie near our mailboxes.”

Dean groans and drops back against the couch. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Cas shrugs. “You seemed determined to ignore me, I thought you weren’t interested, I didn’t see the point.”

Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Well, I’m interested.”

Cas grins and scoots closer. “Still?”

“Oh yeah.” Dean closes the distance between them and Cas melts against him with a hum. His hands wander over Cas’ sides, fingers flirting with the hem on his linen shirt until he can no longer resist brushing against the warm skin underneath.

Cas’ breath hitches at the touch and he crowds into Dean’s space, pushing him back until Dean is laying flat on the couch with Cas over him, straddling his hips and claiming his mouth with a fervor that makes Dean’s heart race.

Cas blazes a trail of hot kisses over Dean’s jaw and down the column of his throat while Dean rucks up Cas’ shirt, splaying his fingers over the man’s hips to hold him in place. “Dean,” Cas gasps as he grinds down. “Please tell me you want this.”

Dean nods and rolls his hips, pressing his growing erection against the swell of Cas’ ass in an attempt to make his point.

Cas grins against Dean’s throat and nips lightly as his hands skim under Dean’s shirt. “I want you, Dean, I want to make you lose control,” Cas whispers, his voice low and husky enough to make Dean’s toes curl.

“Please, Cas,” Dean spreads his knees to allow Cas to settle into the space between. The first press of their groins together has stars flashing behind Dean’s eyes and his entire body trembles with the force.

He feels like a fool for resisting Cas’ pull for so long. This is where they’re meant to be. Lost in each other without a care for the outside world.

“You’re mine to unravel,” Cas says, nipping at the tender skin of Dean’s firm stomach. “Mine to take. Do you want me to take you, Dean?” Cas’ long fingers fumble with the button of Dean’s jeans even as Dean struggles to sit upright enough to pull his shirt over his head.

He grips Cas’ shoulder and hauls him forward until their lips crash together once again. Dean pants against Cas’ mouth, nearly breathless as the harsh gravel of Cas’ voice caresses his frayed nerves. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean rasps as he rucks up Cas’ shirt and encourages him to peel it over his head and toss it away.

Cas leans over him, a playful smirk etched on his features with his eyes gleaming in the bright sunlit room. He strokes a gentle hand over Dean’s jaw, gazing down at him as Dean swallows hard. “That’s the idea, Dean. Bedroom?”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath and gives Cas a jerky nod. “Bedroom,” he agrees, nodding toward the back of his modest house.

Cas climbs off and extends a hand for Dean to take.

They make it to the bedroom in a tangle of mouths and limbs, barely able to tell where one begins and the other ends. Dean falls easily and bounces on the bed when Cas pushes him and stares up into those bottomless blue eyes that have tormented him for years, tempting him with the promise of forgetting his troubles in another’s arms for a time, no matter how brief.

Now, knowing what Cas is, knowing that with Cas, that time could last an eternity, his heart patters excitedly. “Fuck me, Cas.” Dean arches his back, preening under Cas’ darkened gaze as the man tugs Dean’s jeans and boxers over his hips and off to leave him exposed.

His cock lays against his belly, hard and waiting as he spreads his knees to invite Cas closer while he grins lazily up at the man.

Cas grins, all teeth and downright predatory as he stalks toward Dean.

For a moment, Dean’s pulse quickens with uncertainty but then Cas is running a lazy finger from Dean’s ankle and up his leg, all the way to the tip of his twitching cock as he leans over Dean and draws him into another deep kiss.

“Are you sure?” Cas whispers against his lips, licking and sucking between words until Dean is nearly whimpering.

Dean bites his lip and nods. “Please, Cas. Need to feel you.” He arches his spine as his fingers grapple Cas’ hips, pulling down until his hard cock rubs against the soft linen of Cas’ pants that barely conceals the man’s erection.

Cas nibbles at the shell of Dean’s ear, making him shiver and writhe with barely contained ticklish laughter and Cas draws back with a gummy smile that makes his eyes nearly glow. “You’re beautiful.” Cas swoops down and presses his lips gently to Dean’s as he snakes a hand between them.

Dean arches when strong fingers, rough and calloused from work, wrap around his straining cock and soft pleas fall from his lips as he works to push Cas’ pants over his hips.

Cas chuckles, the sound warm and throaty, and his stubble scrapes Dean’s chin as he ducks his head to help in Dean’s mission. Cas kicks off his pants, settling on his knees between Dean’s spread legs and he runs his hands up and down Dean’s thighs soothingly.

Dean whines and reaches for Cas, but the bastard laughs and scoots just out of reach.

“Oh no. You’re mine, Dean. And you’re going to be patient,” Cas chastises with a click of his tongue that has Dean groaning in frustration.

“Come on, Cas,” he complains, bending his knee to tap his heel against Cas’ ass. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Cas arches a brow and Dean falls still from the sheer power contained in that simple look. His expression brooks no argument, allows for no negotiation and gives Dean nowhere to hide. “Like you kept me waiting?”

The gravel in Cas’ tone has Dean swallowing hard. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, suddenly unable to meet Cas’ gaze as self-loathing swells in his gut.

He wasn’t even willing to give Cas a chance.

He ran away like a coward.

“Don’t be.” Cas pinches Dean’s thigh to draw his attention. His long fingers wrap around Dean’s cock loosely, giving Dean just enough pressure to cause his breath to hitch. Dean’s hands fist as his sides as Cas leans down, warm breath ghosting over his cockhead. “You’re with me now, that’s what matters.”

Dean’s response is lost when Cas parts his lips over the head of his cock and sinks down, enveloping Dean in silky warmth that has his hands fisting the sheets as he tries to stay still.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean grates as Cas hum and swallows around him. Every cell in his being vibrates with the need to take and be taken, to meld with Cas until there is nothing left but _them._

Cas finds Dean’s hands and guides them to his head without breaking his rhythm and Dean doesn’t waste any time tangling his fingers in Cas’ dark locks.

Cas’ hair is silky between his fingers and he tries not to pull too hard as he guides Cas the way he wants him, testing Castiel’s boundaries. “Gonna make me come,” Dean huffs as he throws his head back against the pillow.

Cas pulls off with a pop and meets Dean’s gaze with a lazy grin. “We certainly don’t want that, do we?”

Dean sucks in a breath and furrows his brows. “No?”

Cas hums knowingly and crawls up Dean’s body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake until he covers Dean completely. “I want you to come on my cock,” Cas whispers before taking Dean’s earlobe gently between his teeth.

The gentle pinch combined with Cas’ words make Dean’s stomach clench and his cock twitch as he wraps his fingers around Cas’ sharp hipbones and drags him down to grind their hard dicks together.

Cas gasps with the sudden friction and he grins against Dean’s cheek as he kisses his way to his lips. Cas is merciless as he licks along Dean’s bottom lip, requesting entry.

Dean opens easily and greedily sucks at Cas’ tongue, licking his taste from Cas’ lips as Cas plunders his mouth.

Cas is a whirlwind above him, touching and taking what he wants from Dean without the slightest bit of restraint. Dean feels helpless, caught in a current that he wants nothing more than to wash him away. “Lube,” Dean manages to remember and he reaches blindly toward his nightstand.

Cas grins as he leans up and reaches for the drawer. He searches wildly, knocking against whatever else might be rattling around inside before coming up triumphantly.

“Please,” Dean whines. His patience is wearing thin as Cas takes his time opening the bottle and squeezing a decent amount of the slick gel onto his fingers.

Cas scoots backward without taking his eyes off Dean’s, not even when he reaches between Dean’s legs with his lubes fingers. “Tell me what you want.”

Dean’s heart flutters and his lips part, the words are on the tip of his tongue but they refuse to come. He shifts his hips in hopes that Cas will take that as an answer but the man simply clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Words, Dean.” Cas barely presses the pad of his finger against Dean’s waiting hole. The pressure isn’t nearly enough to give Dean what he wants, but Cas is determined to draw out his words. “I’ve wanted this for too long, I need to know you want this as much as I do.”

Dean nods. “Yes. Please.”

“Please what?” Cas smirks and Dean groans.

Dean sucks in a sharp breath and glares. “Fuck me, you asshole.”

Cas barks a laugh and shakes his head fondly. Dean can’t help but grin when he sees Cas’ gummy smile and the little crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Dean would smite his own flowers just to see that grin every day.

Fuck, he’s fallen fast.

Cas hums as he _finally_ presses a single finger into Dean and he whines impatiently. “Don’t need your fingers.”

“Shhh,” Cas hushes him as he slides that single digit in and out as he twists his wrist. One finger quickly becomes two and when Cas crooks them, Dean nearly arches off the bed. “Maybe I want to play with you a bit first.”

Cas is relentless as Dean whines and thrashes. His fingers rub lightly, insistently against that wonderful spot deep inside Dean and he refuses to stop until Dean is a trembling mess. “Are you going to avoid me again?” Cas asks and Dean barely catches the hint of wariness in his tone.

Dean shakes his head. “Not unless you don’t get your dick in me right now,” he grumbles, doing his best to glare through the smile threatening to quirk the corners of his mouth.

Cas presses hard against his prostate and Dean nearly launches from the bed with a startled cry, much to the bastard’s amusement. “Demanding, aren’t you?” Cas chuckles as he withdraws his fingers.

Dean’s breaths come in harsh pants as he glares at Cas. “You don’t know the half of it,” he bites as he arches his back, doing his best to encourage Cas to give them what they both want.

Cas strokes lazy fingers up Dean’s trembling thigh on his way to reach for the lube, in absolutely no hurry at all. “I’ll just have to teach you some patience,” Cas says with a hum as he takes his time clicking open the cap on the tube and slicking up his straining cock.

Dean watches hungrily, Cas’s fingers wrap around the width of his erection and stroke from root to tip. Cas’ cock is beautiful, thick and flushed. “Just get on with it, you can teach me later.”

Cas smirks. “Is that a promise?”

Dean would promise Cas anything just to get him to finally fuck him. “Yes. Please. Just fuck me.”

Cas’ smirk turns predatory and Dean realizes that he may very well live to regret that promise but the blunt head of Cas’ dick is nudging at his hole and Dean’s thoughts narrow to that singular point of contact as he breaches that first tight ring of muscle.

Dean throws his head back with a groan as Cas inches inside him, the stretch glorious and perfect just like he knew it would be. “Yes, fuck, Cas,” Dean babbles, hands fisting in the sheets as Cas steadies him with open palms against his thighs.

“Feel good?” Cas asks with an arched brow as if Dean would possibly give any other answer.

Dean gasps when Cas bottoms out and grinds filthy circles against the swell of his ass. He doesn’t give him time to adjust, Cas simply pulls back and snaps his hips forward, setting a punishing rhythm that has Dean seeing stars with each brush over his prostate.

Cas grips Dean’s hips, pulling him down on his cock to meet each sharp thrust that makes quiet gasps fall from Dean’s lips as they urge each other on.

Dean feels his orgasm building with the untethered power of a raging wildfire, the connection between them burning with a delirious mix of want and need. His will stretches and bends to Cas, his entire universe narrowed to each thrust of the other man’s hips and the grip of his hands.

Cas leans forward without slowing his pace and pulls Dean into a messy kiss that is little more than a clash of teeth. “Come on, Dean,” Cas urges, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust that creates sparks of pleasure deep in Dean’s gut.

The pressure builds, steady and winding, coiling inside Dean’s balls and pushing upward with each thrust as a thin sheen of sweat breaks out over his skin. He whines, the sound low and heady as Cas picks up his pace, pounding him relentlessly while never averting his gaze.

Dean closes his eyes and throws his head back, unable and unwilling to escape as the power of Cas’ thrusts push him up the mattress until his head begins to knock against the headboard.

Cas grins then, slowing his pace just enough to take Dean’s heavy cock in hand and stroke him lazily. “Come for me,” he says, voice a mere whisper as he stares down at Dean’s flushed skin with wonder shining in his eyes.

Dean hadn’t realized he’s been waiting for the command until his body goes taut and lips part in a silent scream. His vision whitens as he presses his head back into the pillow beneath him as his cock kicks and spills over Cas’ hand.

Cas fucks him through it, rhythm faltering as Dean clenches around him. “Shit, Dean,” Cas bites but Dean barely hears him through the roaring in his ears. He stutters and freezes, pushing deep inside as he reaches his climax, filling Dean with his hot come.

Dean watches the look of bliss on Cas’ features with rapt attention as an unfamiliar warmth unfurls in his stomach. The long column of the man’s throat is stretched with his head lilted back and lips parted as he grinds against Dean’s ass. Cas is beautiful, tan and lean with eyes that could capture the stars.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, reaching for Cas’ hand, needing the contact.

Cas smiles down at him sleepily as he pulls out with a wince. He climbs over Dean and brackets his shoulders with his hands before leaning down for a kiss that is far too chaste for what they’ve just done. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean laughs, he can’t help it. “Go get a wet towel, jackass.”

Cas narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “You are such an assbutt,” He mutters as he pushes away and makes his way to the bathroom without bothering covering himself.

Dean watches the gentle sway of his hips and the perfect roundness of his ass as he walks away. His mouth waters at the delightful cut of the muscles across his upper back and broad shoulders. He was wrong before. Cas puts Adonis to shame.

“Better?” Cas returns, washcloth in hand.

Dean grins despite Cas’ arched brow. “Much.” He lets Cas clean him up, savoring the gentle touches as he watches. “Hey,” he catches Cas’ wrist as he moves to step away. “You’re staying, right?”

A minuscule smile flirts with the corners of Cas’ lips as he lets Dean pull him closer, down and onto the bed. “Do you want me to?”

Dean drags Cas into his arms and snatches the dirty washcloth to throw in the general direction of his hamper. He presses a loud kiss to Cas’ temple. “Yep.”

Cas laughs, the sound bright and clear in the quiet room and he snuggles into Dean’s arms. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Dean cinches him closer despite the lingering stickiness. They can take a shower in a little while. For now, he’s content to feel Cas’ heart beating against his chest in a contended rhythm and revel in the way Cas’ fingers are toying with the short hairs at the back of his head. He would purr if he could, but he’s a god, not a cat, and there will be no purring today. Thank you very much.

“You’re making noises,” Cas says with all the simplicity in the world.

“What?” Dean mutters, only belatedly realizing that he _was_ humming ever so quietly with each delightful brush of Cas’ fingers.

Cas leans forward and kisses his brow. “Never mind,” he says with an indulging chuckle.

Dean lays there for a minute more, enjoying Cas’ nearness and trying not to think that this might not mean anything. Cas is so wild and carefree, just like his weeds. Dean can’t let himself think that this is anything more than a tryst. A diversion from the greater problem of whoever shot as Cas’ hives and injured that coyote.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Cas grumbles as he pushes up onto his elbow to stare down at Dean.

Dean bites his lip and toys with the edge of the blanket between his fingers. He can’t bring himself to meet Cas’ gaze. A dozen _what if’s_ circle around in his thoughts, each one more depressing than the last until Cas takes his chin and pries his lip from between his teeth.

“Hey,” Cas whispers as he raises Dean’s chin and leaves a promise of a kiss on his lips. “What are you thinking?”

Dean sucks in a breath and shakes his head, dislodging Cas’ hold. “This, you.” Dean shakes his head. “What are we doing?”

Cas chuckles before realizing Dean’s inner turmoil and falls silent. “I _hope_ we’re just getting started, but if you don’t want that then…”

Dean looks up, eyes wide and startled. “I want.”

“Good.” Cas leans over him, pressing him into the mattress. “Now, let’s see what kind of stamina you have.”

Dean chuckles and lets Cas push him onto his back, dick already perking up as Cas moves to straddle him. “Bring it, darlin.”

Cas freezes and arches a brow. “Darlin?”

Dean shrugs. “Would you rather I call you jackass?”

Cas nearly sputters as he laughs and shakes his head. He rolls his hips against Dean’s hardening cock, wiping the smirk right off Dean’s face. “How about you call me ‘yours’?”

Dean’s heart stutters as he nods, looking up at Cas with wide eyes. He nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

\---Part 5---

“Dammit, Dean!” Sam cries, shielding his eyes as he spins away from Dean’s room.

“What the hell Sam!” Dean barks, quickly throwing a blanket over him and Cas. It’s too late. They all know it’s too late. There are some things a little brother never needs to see, and his big brother being balls deep inside his neighbor is one of them. “You ever hear of knocking?!”

Cas nearly rolls off the bed in Dean’s haste to shield them and he fixes Dean with an unimpressed glare as he drags the blanket over his lap.

The sound of the front door slamming follows Sam’s hurried retreat but that doesn’t stop Dean from cursing up a storm. Green sparks fly from his fingertips as he shoves his legs into a pair of boxers and stalks after his brother.

“Dean!” Cas calls, already starting to recover. He launches himself from the bed to chase after Dean.

“Sam!” Dean shouts, almost to his front door when Cas catches him.

“Dean!” Cas growls, snagging Dean’s arm and pulling him around.

Dean’s eyes widen when he takes in Cas’ clenched jaw and fiery glare. He hadn’t bothered with a stitch of clothing and Dean can’t help the way his gaze tracks down his body to where Cas’ cock only stands partly wilted from the interruption.

“You get back in that bed. Right. Now.” Cas starts to drag him through the house and back to the bedroom. “I am not done with you.”

Dean gapes, dick filling out from the sheer demand laced in Cas’ tone even as his stomach twists with embarrassment. “But, Sam…”

“Sam can wait.” Cas throws Dean back on the bed and strips him out of his boxers.

Dean’s toes curl as his dick hardens enough to make Cas smirk in self-satisfaction. Cas climbs over him, leaning close to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Is this okay?” he asks, tone suddenly soft and forgiving.

Dean could say no, Cas laid the option at his feet but something about the taboo of the situation and the outright predatory way Cas came after him has Dean letting out a huff as he nods. “I think I might burst if you stop.” His voice is barely a whisper but that is enough permission to have Cas reaching behind himself to steady Dean’s cock as he lifts his hips.

Dean’s fingers grip Cas, guiding him down ever so slowly. Cas’ head tilts back and Dean wishes he could reach to nip and suck at that long stretch of tanned skin, but Cas has him pinned. Finally, Cas is seated in Dean’s lap, and they both let out pleased moans as Cas swivels his hips experimentally.

Dean’s breath hitches when Cas smirks down at him and clenches around Dean’s cock like a vice. Dean licks his lips and sucks in a ragged breath, he wants to fuck upward into that silky heat but Cas has made it clear that he is the one in control right now.

Dean is just along for the ride.

“Please, Cas,” Dean flexes, urging Cas to move and he’s rewarded with a sharp look through narrowed eyes that makes his heart skitter curiously. He isn’t going to examine that feeling too closely. Nope. No way.

Cas grinds in slow circles before rising up until the head of Dean’s cock tugs on his rim and dropping down hard enough to shake the bed as he moans with satisfaction.

Dean grunts with the force of Cas’ movements as tension coils low in his belly, their interruption nearly forgotten with the pace Castiel sets.

In the dark of night, hidden safely in his room, Dean had wondered what Cas would be like if he ever had him like this. Dean would stroke his cock lazily, picturing Cas’ tender smile as Dean would sink into him, fucking slow and soft until they were both panting.

Dean is pleased to find that he was wrong.

Cas is relentless, demanding, and everything Dean never imagined. Uninhibited and unfettered by the rules the rest of the world sets. Cas is a force of nature unto himself and Dean already feels himself growing addicted.

“You fill me up so well,” Cas pants, planting his open palms on Dean’s chest to give himself better leverage. He shows no sign of tiring, of slowing, as he continues to bounce on Dean’s cock. He rolls his hips, sways and stretches his lithe torso tantalizingly.

Dean whimpers, needing to touch. He unclenches his fingers from Cas’ hips and runs them up his sides, the pads of his fingers teasing each line of his ribs as he tries to draw Cas closer. “Please, Cas, I need…” Dean starts but trails off as he bucks his hips to meet Cas’ thrust.

A moan punches out of Cas and he nods, silently asking Dean to do that again. Dean is happy to oblige and the two of them work in tandem. The sound of skin slapping on skin and drawn out groans fill the air as they drive each other closer to a precipice they are more than willing to tumble over.

“What do you need?” Cas pants as he swivels his hips, grinding against Dean’s waist.

“Kiss me.” Dean pulls himself up as far as he can as Cas leans forward. Their lips meet messily, a clash of teeth and sweat-slicked skin that leaves Dean gasping for air.

Dean is spiraling closer to the edge, a few more thrusts and he won’t be able to hold back any longer. “Come on, Cas,” Dean pleads as he takes Cas’ length in hand and strokes in time with their thrusts.

“Dean!” Cas cries out as he doubles over, meeting Dean’s lips as he spills between them. Dean kisses him breathless as he works Cas through his orgasm. He flexes his hips, once, twice, a third time as Cas clenches around him and he follows with a strangled gasp as Cas collapses on top of him, heedless to the sticky mess coating their stomachs.

They lay panting and Dean is glad for his preternatural strength because Cas is _heavy_. He wraps his arms around Cas’ back, holding him close on the off-chance Cas was thinking about moving and presses a kiss against the top of Cas’ head.

“We’re sticky,” Cas grumbles and Dean lets him push himself up. They both groan when Dean’s softened cock slips free and Cas climbs off him, only to flop onto the bed at Dean’s side.

“Kinda your fault,” Dean teases as he blindly searches for Cas’ hand. He finds his target and tangles their fingers together as Cas peers at him through narrowed eyes. Dean barks a laugh as Cas huffs and shakes his head.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Cas says, glaring with all the heat of an offended pigeon.

Dean grins and brushes Cas’ hair from his eyes with his free hand. “Feel free to make a mess of me any time.”

“I thought you didn’t like messes,” Cas grumbles as he lays back down with a sleepy smile.

“I don’t like _weeds,_ ” Dean corrects as he rolls onto his side to face Cas.

Cas snorts and buries his nose against Dean’s shoulder. “Well, you’re going to have to learn to live with them.”

Dean sucks in a breath and nods. “We’ll figure something out.”

Cas hums contentedly and waves his hand over the drying mess between them. “I can at least take care of this,” he mutters as the mix of come and sweat disappears.

Dean’s eyes widen and he huffs a laugh. “Neat trick.”

“Hmm, I’m full of surprises.” Cas flops onto his back with a sigh. “We should probably go find Sam. You might need to console him.”

Dean groans and scrubs a hand over his jaw as he turns toward the window. The sun is past its zenith and Dean blinks in surprise. “How long have we been…” he trails off as he turns his attention to the clock next to the bed. “Shit.”

“What?” Cas questions, propping himself up on an elbow as he tracks Dean’s gaze to the clock. “Oh.”

Big red numbers stare back at them.

7:29

In the evening.

“I guess Sam wasn’t early.” Dean pushes himself to sit at the edge of the mattress. They’ve been tangled up in each other all day and failed to notice how much time had passed. “I need to shower.”

He pushes to his feet and turns back to offer his hand to Cas. “Join me?”

Cas smiles coyly as he takes Dean’s hand and lets himself be pulled from the bed. “We should hurry.”

\---Part 6---

“What the hell was that, Dean!” Sam all but shouts when Dean finally ventures out of his house to find his brother. Cas stayed inside to find something for dinner, as comfortable in Dean’s kitchen as his own apparently.

“I’m pretty sure you’re old enough to know what you saw, Sammy,” Dean says flippantly even as his stomach twists with awkwardness.

Sam fixes him with his longest-suffering bitch face. The one Dean affectionately refers to as the _you’re an idiot and I’m about to prove it_ , look. “That was Cas.”

Dean nods. “Yep,” he takes extra care to pop the P just to further annoy his brother.

“The, and I quote, ‘damn hippy that you can’t fucking stand’.” Sam folds his arms over his chest and glares.

Dean nods again with a smirk. “Yep.”

“Then I repeat, what the hell?!” Sam throws his arm up in the air and turns away in exasperation.

Dean shrugs. “Things have changed.”

Sam spins on his heel, glare returning full force. “Like what?” He hisses, sneaking furtive glances toward Dean’s house like Cas might appear at any moment.

“He’s one of us,” Dean says simply and Sam’s jaw drops. Dean shrugs again. “And this whole thing made me realize I was being stupid.”

Sam’s eyes widen comically and he gapes, mouth open and closing like a fish. “You…”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s a pain in the ass, sure,” Dean says with a smirk. “But he’s my pain the ass now.”

Sam groans pitifully and Dean has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the mental image he painted for his brother. “When you say he’s one of us?”

Dean nods. “Weeds.”

“Huh. So like, the exact opposite of you.” Sam rubs his chin thoughtfully and glances toward the house.

Dean pinches a frown and nods. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.” Sam claps him on the shoulder and turns back to face the field. Where only this morning, the wildflowers and low brush were dull and wilting, strong green plants stand and Dean can’t help but raise his brows and look back to the house.

Cas is nowhere to be seen, but deep down, Dean knows the change in the plants has something to do with him. They’ll have to talk about that later. “Thanks,” Dean grumbles, ready to leave his conversation behind. “Any idea who’s shooting at Cas’ hives?”

Sam hums and his eyes slide closed. “The bees don’t know, their thoughts are too focused to notice anything outside their search for flowers.”

Dean frowns, not even surprised that Sam can communicate with something as minuscule as a bee. “Cas said that a fox came to his door this morning.”

Sam turns to Dean with a furrowed brow. “A fox?” Dean nods and Sam pinches a frown. “Foxes are predators, I can’t,” he trails off, shaking his head.

“But someone shot at it, doesn’t that make it prey?” Dean tries to justify and Sam’s frown deepens.

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“There’s gotta be something you can do Sam, someone is attacking Cas!” Dean pleads, feeling the telltale surge of power coursing through his veins. The perfectly manicured grass as his feet quivers and Sam fixes him with an unimpressed look.

An eerie yip comes from the tall grass of the field that draws their attention. They turn in unison to stare at the grass shivers and parts around a large doe who is slowly making her way toward them with wariness shining in her eyes.

On her heels is a coyote, and behind the coyote is a fox.

If Dean weren’t accustomed to seeing such oddities around his brother, he would find the entire scene bizarre, but as it is, he simply smiles in satisfaction.

Sam approaches the deer with a tender smile and she allows him to press his hands to the sides of her head in an awkward embrace. He leans down, nuzzling the top her head as the fox and coyote sit at his feet patiently.

Dean almost doesn’t hear Cas approach but he turns with a smile when Cas gently takes his hand and comes to a stop at his side.

“Any news?” Cas whispers in Dean’s ear and Dean shakes his head.

“Hopefully,” Dean answers as he squeezes Cas’ hand.

After what feels like an eternity, but likely only a few minutes, Sam pulls back from the deer and pats her neck affectionately. She turns and trots away but the fox and coyote don’t move from their stations at Sam’s feet.

He crouches down to their level and dips his chin in recognition. “Thank you,” he tells them and the fox stands and rubs against Sam’s legs like a cat before scampering off into the field. The coyote seems to smirk at Sam before licking a long stripe up his cheek and running away before Sam can complain.

Not that Sam would.

Dean smirks as Sam wipes away the coyote slobber with a roll of his eyes. “Well?”

“Does the name Marv mean anything to you?” Sam asks and Dean nearly recoils from the cloud of anger that forms around Cas.

“Marv did this?” Cas nearly growls and Sam takes a step backward as tiny purple flowers begin to grow under Cas’ feet.

“CAS!” Dean protests, glaring at the creeping Charlie sprouting up around them.

Cas sucks in a deep breath through his nose and lifts his chin to the sky. “Apologies, Dean.” He swallows hard and takes a step back, gesturing the weeds for Dean to smite. With the weeds gone, Dean takes Cas’ hand and squeezes. “Marv is a foul little man. He’s been harassing me since I bought this house.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. He knows exactly what Cas is talking about. Marv has even had the nerve to comment on _his_ immaculate garden more than once, claiming his hedges need pruning or his grass is a quarter-inch too long.

On one occasion, Dean felt the need to smite Marv’s garden tractor when he left in his front lawn.

Marv is obnoxious.

“Well, it seems he takes issue with your bees,” Sam says with a pinched frown.

“But that’s absurd! It’s perfectly legal for me to have them, I checked the ordinances!” Cas protests and Dean has to shush him when those damn purple flowers start coming back.

“Cas, babe, calm down. We’re not gonna let him get away with this,” Dean whispers soothingly as he rubs circles on Cas’ back.

Cas glares with a huff.

“I can’t get him for anything unless I catch him in the act.” Sam holds up his hands in surrender when Cas’ hands fist as his side, a low blue light emanating from his palms.

Cas swallows hard and sucks in a breath through his nose before his eyes slide closed.

“Cas, can you stay with Dean tonight? I’m gonna catch this guy, but I need to make sure he doesn’t see anything he shouldn’t,” Sam says with a pointed look at Cas’ still glowing hands.

Dean nods. “Sam can handle this, come on,” Dean urges Cas toward the house, stealing a glance with his brother as they turn. “What did you find for dinner?” He asks, both as a distraction and a genuine curiosity.

They managed to fuck their way through breakfast and lunch, and Dean has become accustomed to eating regularly. So what if he doesn’t _need_ to eat? He likes food. He likes eating.

Screw anyone who has anything to say about it.

“I got some steak out to thaw and there are potatoes in the oven,” Cas answers easily, tone already lightening as Dean leads him toward the house.

“Hell yes,” Dean cheers. “You need anything from your place?”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve barely worn my clothes today.”

Dean grins. “And you’ll barely wear them tonight if I have anything to say about it.”

Cas leans into his side with a hum as the three of them reach Dean’s back door.

“Gross, guys,” Sam scowls and Dean laughs.

“You want a beer, Sammy?” Dean asks as Sam drops into one of the comfortable Adirondack chairs on the deck.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Of course, Sam wants a beer. Cas follows him inside and Dean wastes no time in crowding him against the counter and dragging him into a tender kiss. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Cas hums and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist as he buries his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. “I didn’t think you’d be like this,” Cas mumbles tiredly.

“Like what?” Dean isn’t sure if he should be offended or disappointed.

“Sweet,” Cas mutters.

Dean shakes his head and presses a kiss to Cas’ temple. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly,” Cas says dryly. “Now, cook me dinner.”

Dean barks a laugh and leans in for a quick kiss. “You’re in for a treat.” He winks and snags three beers from his fridge, handing one immediately off to Cas before ducking outside to fire up the grill.

Cas follows and drops into the chair next to Sam’s when Dean goes back inside to get the steaks ready.

By the time the sun is hanging low in the sky and they’re sitting down to eat, Sam and Cas are debating something in hushed tones that Dean can’t be bothered to listen too closely too. They’re two hippies in a hippy shaped pod, just like Dean suspected they would be.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

\---Part Seven---

Dean watches in amazement as Cas works his magic, coaxing milkweed and thistle, creeping Charlie and skunkweed, to cross the border of his yard and into Marv’s. Sam watches from a distance as one light after another brightens the inside of Marv’s house and Dean tenses when the floodlights of his back yard come on.

Cas smirks and turns toward Dean, clearly proud of his work as Marv’s back door slams open and the man storms outside.

“What do you think you’re doing in my yard, you filthy hippy?!” Marv screams as he waddles across his yard. “What have you done?!” He shrieks, staring down at the weeds in horror.

Cas shrugs. “What?” He questions innocently and Marv turns his glare to Dean.

“I thought you were better than cavorting around with the likes of him, Winchester.” Marv glares and Dean pulse quickens.

Energy crackles at his fingertips and he wishes he had the power to strike the man down where he stands.

Unfortunately, Dean does not have his mother’s power.

“As if the bees weren’t bad enough,” Marv grumbles, his tone dripping with venom.

“ _My bees_ are perfectly legal. I know you’re the one who shot my hives, Marv, you’re not going to get away with this.” Cas folds his arms over his chest with his hands clenched into fists to hide the faint glow that comes with his rising temper.

Marv puffs out his chest and even in the dim light of the moon and flood lamps, Dean can see how red his face has become underneath his scruffy beard.

Marv steps closer to Castiel, jaw trembling with outrage as Dean steps between them. “This isn’t your fight, Winchester,” Marv grumbles as he shoves Dean aside.

“You shouldn’t have touched him,” Cas bites as he unfolds his arms and goes toe to toe with Marv. He holds up his hands, letting the inhuman light shine for Marv to see as twisting vines creep forward from the earth and wrap their searching tendrils around Marv’s ankles.

Marv staggers backward with a panicked cry, tripping over the thick vines as they creep up his legs. “What are you doing to me?!” Marv screams as he reaches for something at his waist.

Cas looms over him and Dean notices too late when Marv produces a pistol from his belt.

“Cas!” Dean shouts as a single shot rings out and his heart freezes in his chest. His feet may as well be made of lead for the speed they carry him to Cas’ side and his stomach lurches as Cas staggers backward.

Cas recovers quickly and stands firm. Not even moving when Dean snags his shoulder and tries to spin him around.

“PUT THE GUN DOWN!” Sam shouts as he runs toward them, his own pistol drawn.

Marv drops his gun in a panic, looking between Cas, Dean, and Sam in rapid succession. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, oh my god,” Marv babbles as he curls into a fetal position at Cas’ feet.

Cas crouches down as he waves his vines away. “That was attempted murder, Marv.”

Marv gasps and shakes his head. “But I missed. I never meant to hit you. No harm done, right?”

“You are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held you...” Sam kicks the gun away from Marv and flips the man onto his belly where he cuffs him as he recites his Miranda rights.

“You’re not a cop, you can’t arrest me,” Marv protests, struggling against the biting metal cuffs.

“Wrong. I am a federal forestry agent. I have all the authority I need to arrest you for illegal discharge of a firearm,” Sam says, hissing in Marv’s ear as he hauls him to his feet. “The local PD will be here in a minute to take him in and get statements.” He nods to Dean and Cas as he frog marches Metatron toward the street.

Dean finally lets out the breath he’s been holding as he reaches for Cas. He needs to feel that he’s okay. That Marv really did miss.

Cas frowns down at his shirt and shakes his head. “I liked this one,” he says as Dean tracks his gaze.

There, in the center of his stomach, is a single round hole that most certainly was not there earlier in the day.

“He shot you?!” Dean gasps as he tugs Cas’ shirt up to examine the unblemished skin underneath. “You’re okay,” Dean breathes, still searching for the wound.

Cas frowns and quirks a brow. “Of course, I’m okay.”

“But, but he shot you,” Dean protests, his thought process not quite catching up.

“Dean.” Cas snags Dean’s hands and forces him to meet his gaze. “God, remember?”

Dean sucks in a ragged breath and suddenly feels like an idiot. “Shit.”

Cas chuckles. “Yeah. A little pistol isn’t going to hurt me.”

Dean laughs, the sound nearly hysterical in the quiet of the back yard. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Ugh, I’m an idiot.”

Cas bumps their shoulders together before he tangles his fingers with Dean. “You’re my idiot.”

Dean shakes his head with a wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”

\---

Cas leans against the wall in Dean's room, chewing his lip nervously and looking anywhere but at Dean.

Sam has already hauled Marv off and the police have taken their statements. It’s been a busy night, and despite the fact they spent most of the day in bed together, Cas seems nervous now that they’re alone.

“Come'ere,” Dean mutters, making grabby hands at Cas from where he sits at the edge of the bed. “You okay?”

Cas nods and pushes off the wall. He steps into the V of Dean’s legs and lets Dean wraps his arms around his middle. “You think Marv will bother us again?” Cas questions as he strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean hums and nods against Cas’ stomach, trying to pretend that watching Cas get shot wasn’t the most terrifying thing he’s ever experienced. He’s had this for less than a day and yet he can’t imagine how he ever lived before. He can’t go back to that. “Did you see his face? Even if he doesn’t get convicted, he’s not coming back here.”

Cas huffs and scritches against Dean’s scalp. “I wish we could just do things the old-fashioned way.”

Dean hums and nods, catching Cas’ linen shirt with his stubble. “There certainly was something satisfying about simple vengeance.”

Cas huffs and traces the shell of Dean’s ear with his thumb. “I almost miss the days when mortals feared us.”

“Like _we_ were ever worth fearing,” Dean retorts. “What would we do? Make the plants grow?”

Cas smirks and lets out a small huff. “I can be quite vengeful, you know. Never underestimate the power of invasive vines.”

Dean snorts and pulls back to meet Cas’ gaze. “I’ll try to remember that,” he says dryly.

“So, now what? For us, I mean.” Cas leans down to press a kiss into Dean’s hair but doesn’t meet his eyes.

Dean sighs and tightens his hold around Cas’ middle. “You’re mine now. I’m not letting go.” _Unless you tell me to._ He tacks on silently, not wanting to give voice to the possibility that Cas might not want this too.

“Even though I’m a dirty hippy?” Cas asks, amusement coloring his tone.

Dean huffs and pulls back enough to smirk up at Cas. “Yep. You’re mine. Dirty hippy-ness and all.”

Cas laughs and pushes Dean back.

Dean falls with a laugh that turns to silence when Cas climbs over him and straddles his hips. He swallows hard as he stares up into Cas’ penetrating gaze.

“You’re mine too. Even though you’re an uptight perfectionist,” Cas says, punctuating his words with kisses to Dean’s cheeks. “Obnoxious.” Another kiss, this time to Dean’s brow. “And you drive a gas-guzzling monstrosity.” His kiss to Dean’s lips misses when Dean shoves his shoulder with a glare.

“Hey, don’t bring Baby into this,” Dean protests, tone barely teasing.

Cas chuckles. “My mistake. _Baby_ is quite lovely.”

“Thank you,” Dean quips, lifting his head to meet Cas’ lips.

Cas presses Dean into the mattress with his kiss. The all-consuming comfort brought by the gentle friction of their mouths working together makes Dean’s head swim as he wraps his fingers around Cas’ hips to hold him close. Dean hums, content to do this and nothing more but Cas has other ideas.

His nimble fingers reach between them and tug at the button of Dean’s jeans.

“Again?” Dean pulls away to ask.

Cas grins. “Are you complaining?”

Dean shakes his head vigorously. “Not a chance.”

“Good.” Cas climbs off and Dean helps push his jeans down before reaching for the waistband of Cas’ linen pants.

Cas pants fall easily and he’s bare underneath, his thick cock already starting to fill. Dean’s stomach clenches and his mouth waters as they pull off their shirts and cast them aside.

“On the bed,” Dean directs, pointing the center of the wide mattress.

Cas quirks a brow. “You’re giving orders now?”

Dean huffs with a smile. “If you want me to blow you, then yes.”

Cas laughs and scrambles into place with his legs spread in invitation and a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Dean climbs over Cas, kissing him deeply before trailing his fingertips over Cas' ribs and sides. Cas hums at the touch, arching his back as Dean kisses his way across his chest.

This isn't the time for words, not when Dean's heart still skips and his stomach clenches if his thoughts drift back to seeing Marv pull that gun.

Everything happened so quickly, if Cas were human like Dean thought… Dean shakes himself out that line of thinking as he traces the tiny freckle next to Cas’ nipple. He refuses to let himself go down that road and dwell on what might have been.

Cas digs his fingers into Dean's hair, trying to push him where he really wants him.

Dean refuses to be hurried, even as Cas' whines his name. He swirls his tongue around Cas pert nipple before delivering a sharp nip that makes Cas gasp and clench his fingers. He immediately soothes the sting with a puff of cool air over the spit slick nub and Cas trembles.

“Dean,” Cas croaks and Dean smiles against his skin as he continues his reverent trail of kisses down the firm planes of Cas’ stomach. He stops to pay special attention to the unblemished skin where the bullet would have gone, did go, and Cas falls still as Dean presses one tender kiss after another to the spot.

“I’m okay,” Cas whispers, unclenching his fingers from Dean’s hair to stroke lightly across his jaw.

Dean nods. He knows Cas is okay. No mortal weapon can harm them, but that is going to take time to fully sink in. He’s only just found Cas, he isn’t prepared to face losing him already. He forces himself to move on and scoots further down the bed.

He settles on his knees between Cas’ spread thighs and runs his hands over Cas’ hips and down his legs as he looks up to meet that perfectly blue gaze.

Something heavy passes between them and Dean swallows hard. Any teasing jibe he may have thought to say dies on his tongue when he sees the simple adoration gleaming in Castiel’s eyes. He swallows hard, a flush rising in cheeks as he turns his attention to where Cas’ cock lays against his thigh, half-hard and waiting.

Dean wraps his fingers around Cas’ cock gently and strokes lazily as he licks his lips. He hasn’t done this in years and the nervous lurch in his stomach is quick to remind him of that fact. He leans down to kiss across Cas’ thighs, slowly bringing himself closer to the vee of his legs but he isn’t in a hurry.

Cas hardens in his hand, growing thicker as Dean sits up and meets Cas’ gaze. A bead of pre-come leaks from the slit and Dean gathers it on his finger, slowly bring the digit to his lips to get his first real taste.

He smears the pearly white fluid across his bottom lip and his heart skips as Cas’ eyes darken. A near-feral growl escapes Cas’ throat that makes Dean’s stomach clench as he slowly licks his lips, moaning at the salty bitterness that dances across his taste buds.

Dean smirks, loving the way Cas is already reaching for him as he leans down to lick a stripe up the side of Cas’ dick. He slowly mouths his way from base to tip, internally preening from each small gasp and needy whine that passes Cas’ lips.

Cas tastes as good as he smells, an addicting mix of citrus and heady spices that makes Dean moan as he finally parts his lips around the head of Cas’ cock. He tongues at the slit, collecting the small bit of precome that leaks out and he groans at the taste before finally taking Cas inside.

Cas trembles beneath him and clenches his fingers in Dean’s hair as he sinks lower, tightening his lips as he goes until his nose brushes against the wiry hairs of Cas’ groin.

Dean sucks as he pulls back and Cas outright whimpers as he starts to bob. He swirls his tongue on each pass, sucking and slurping as he swallows around the head of Cas’ cock and hums when Cas tugs on his hair.

He keeps up the slow torment until Cas’ thighs tremble under his hands and Dean can feel his hips twitching with the need to move. He wants Cas to take. To use him. But just as Dean stills, Cas’ grip relaxes.

Dean’s hands find their way to cover Cas’ and he guides him, encouraging Cas to take control and he doesn’t need much convincing before he’s pushing and pulling Dean at his will. “You’re amazing,” Cas gasps as his hips snap, lodging the head of his dick in Dean’s throat.

Dean’s eyes water as he suppresses what little gag reflex he has. Being a god has many perks, not _needing_ to breathe is definitely one of them and he’s grateful for that now as Cas fucks his mouth.

“Dean, gonna, gonna…” Cas tenses and Dean doubles down, determined to drive Cas over the edge.

He hums and swallows as Cas plunges in deep and comes with a garbled cry. Hot come splashes down his throat and against the roof his mouth to make him cough and sputter as he does his best to swallow every last drop of the salty fluid.

Cas releases his hold on Dean’s head and relaxes into the mattress with a breathless little laugh as Dean suckles just a little bit longer before pulling off. Cas hums as he reaches for Dean, “let me,” he says as his fingers close around Dean’s erection.

Dean groans at the sudden friction and buries his nose against Cas’ shoulder as Cas’ hand starts to move. He squeezes just right, tugging perfectly like they’ve been doing this for years instead of just a few hours and it doesn’t take long before Dean is spilling over Cas’ hand with a bitten-off moan.

Later, after they’re cleaned up and wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, they fall asleep with promises of a future lingering in their minds.

In the years to follow, two houses slowly become one. A god of weeding learns to appreciate a little disorder, and a wild and untamed god of weeds remains just that. Although, he does learn to keep his weeds to the backyard so their home at least has decent curb appeal. Not that Dean would complain. At all.

Okay, so maybe he does.

A lot.

But, they all the time in the word to figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear from you. I'm grimmlin_fic on twitter if you want to see what I'm up to or get the occasional sneak peek of what I might be posting and when.


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